My Friend the Player
by Naked-toes
Summary: Male!Reader/Prussia.
1. In which the Dumbass gets Drunk

You sighed as you watched the familiar albino figure walk over to a crowd of women. You'd have thought he'd already learned his lesson; he just didn't know how to interact with people, especially to women. He'd been shot down more times than anybody you knew, but every time he just kept getting back up, wiping the slap marks from his face and walking over to another group. All those whacks on the head must have given him some brain damage; he was probably one of the densest people in the world. Not that that stopped him being attractive; boy was he attractive.

You had no idea how long you'd been in love with the idiot. What you did know, on the other hand, was how long you'd known you were. Which was, at that moment, 3 years, 7 months, 1 week, 2 days, 4 hours and 37 minutes. Not that you were obsessed at all. Nope. You knew there was no way in hell he would ever like you, knew there was no way he'd look at you with the same possessive tone he looked at women with. You'd accepted that, accepted that you were doomed to a lonely life, your only solace being pencil lead pornography and a worn, dirty sock. At least, you thought you'd accepted it; you still didn't know if you could stand one more night of having to listen to what happened when he actually _did_ pull. When it happened, you couldn't help but wish it was _you _in the bed next door, couldn't help wishing it was your moans keeping the neighbours awake, couldn't help wishing it was you name that Gilbert was screaming to the heavens.

"Hey, _Kleines_!" 

Gilbert's voice tore you from your thoughts, forcing you to look at him. He still wore his characteristic smirk, but his eyes seemed duller than usual, like he was just smiling for appearance's sake. He was only a single step away from you, his lips so close you could almost touch them…

"What?"

He laughed. "I'm getting some beer; wanna come."

You shook your head. "I prefer being able to wake up and remember what happened."

He shrugged, before heading towards the bar. You breathed out, only just noticing that your heart rate had increased rapidly. He was teasing you now, putting his face so close to yours. If he wasn't so dense, you'd say he was doing it on purpose. You sighed, sitting back down at the table and taking a large swig of coke, trying to cool yourself down. It was ridiculously hot in here and you weren't just talking about the heating.

You stayed there for about half an hour. A few girls came up to try to talk to you, but you shrugged them off. Your mind was on Gilbert anyway. He shouldn't have been taking that long to get a couple of drinks. You took a couple of seconds to think, before standing up and heading towards the bar to find him. He was quite easy to spot; one of the advantages of having an albino friend, you supposed. But it was only as you neared him that you realised what was really going on. And it was _not_ a pretty sight.

"I thought you said you could hold your liquor."

"I can", he slurred, "That's why I got so much."

The guy was utterly surrounded by empty bottles, stretched out on the table like a cat in the sun. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd expected to find; this was much more the kind of thing you'd expect from somebody like Arthur. Not Gil. Definitely not Gil.

"You were_ trying_ to get drunk!"

It wasn't a question, but Gil answered it anyway. "Ja. What did you *hic* expect?"

You gaped. What the hell was he doing? And why? You'd seen him go through so much worse than what had just happened and you'd never seen him resort to the bottle like this. You sighed, pulling out your phone to call a taxi. If anything, you were going to make absolutely sure he managed to get back to your apartment safely.

"I'm gonna have to carry you to the taxi, aren't I?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine."

"You're pissed off your face."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

Gil pulled himself up from the table, only to lean backwards, his eyes rolling in the same manner. At least the soft bench gave him a headrest, you murmured to yourself. Your eyes shifted down his body slightly, admiring the view his now open shirt offered. You blushed slightly as Gil's red gaze shifted back to you, looking nothing less than triumphant.

"I love ya, [Name]."

The hairs at the back of your neck stood on edge. "What?"

"I said I love ya."

You shook your head, forcing yourself to think straight, secretly hoping Gil would deny your next comment. "That's the alcohol talking."

Unfortunately, he didn't. "Yeah, probably."

You sighed, a slight twinge of disappointment forming in your chest. Though hey, what had you expected? Gil so obviously liked women. What chance did some scrawny guy like you stand? You drummed a hand on the table, your phone hanging at your side. It served you right, you guessed.

_Served you right for falling in love with a player. _


	2. In which You get Drunk

Gilbert didn't speak to you for weeks. Your first thought was that he was embarrassed but, after remembering how shit-faced drunk he'd been that night, realised how stupid the whole idea was. Besides, you were talking about Gilbert here; Gil the mega-player, who didn't care what anyone thought of him. Gil, who had an ego the size of the universe and who was most certainly not going to be embarrassed of being in love with somebody. And he so totally _was not_ in love with you anyway; you were his friend, nothing more. It had just been the alcohol talking, that's all. Doing anything based on something he'd said when drunk would be the stupidest idea in the universe. That night was over; you'd called a taxi, taken Gilbert home and done absolutely nothing to his sexy little ass, even though you had the opportunity to. _See, what a sane and lovely person you are. _

You sighed, looking down at the phone in your hands, thinking once again whether pressing that green call button would be a good idea. He might have thought you molested him that night and, even if he didn't, calling up and apologising might get him wondering about what you were apologising for. And then he'd come to some conclusion, get freaked out that his mega-heterosexual image was being threatened and kick you out. I mean, admittedly he might be too dense to figure that out, but there was still a risk. What the fuck were you thinking? You were obviously feeling guilty anyway, or else you wouldn't be calling somebody who lived under the same fricking roof as you instead of speaking to them face to face. _Coward_, you hissed inwardly, _you fucking coward. _

The room was silent, save from the clock ticking on the far wall, as if to taunt you as ever second passed by and Gilbert still didn't speak to you. You placed your phone down next to you, the weight of it causing a dent to form in the mattress. Letting out another deep sigh, you rested your elbows on your knees, holding your head between your hands, running your fingers through the start of your (h/c) hair. You needed to do something; that was for sure. But what, you had no idea. Loosing your best friend or living the rest of your college life secretly lusting after your flatmate, trying to resist the urge to break out into very unmanly tears whenever he brought a girl home; tough call. There was only one answer; get completely shit-faced so that A) you can temporarily forget your problems and B) you can blame everything you say on the booze later. Hell yeah, that was the answer.

There was one thing you'd failed to take into consideration; you can't hold your liqueur. At all. And not in the 'oh, I can't drink two shots of vodka without getting tipsy' kind of way, in the 'after about four beers I can't remember my own name any more' kind of way. Which was why, most of the time anyway, you didn't drink. And why Gil was surprised to see you sprawled out over the couch when he walked in.

"[N-name]?"he muttered, with an uncharacteristic stammer in his voice. You looked up with half lidded eyes.

"What do you want?"

God, how much you wanted him to smirk and reply 'you'. But, of course, he didn't. "I vas just vundering…."

You interrupted him, "Wondering what? Why I'm fucking pissed?"

"Ja."

You laughed, a dry laugh, like somebody had told a terrible joke, but you felt socially obliged to pretend it wasn't. "It's your fucking fault."

No answer. You continued. "Your fault because you made me love you, you little bastard German you. You just had to make me fucking love you didn't y-"

You never finished, because by then you were pinned to the couch by Gilbert, his leg deliberately rubbing up against your crotch, his lips to yours. Ok, you had obviously got so drunk you were having some weird lifelike dream about the start of a one night stand with Gilbert. Stupid Gil; being so damn sexy he invaded your subconsciousness. You felt a tongue lightly stroke your top lip, but only clamped your mouth shut harder. The stupid Prussian had already pretty much ruined your conception of love and now he was trying to take your mind virginity too. Dickface. You opened your mouth and let him take what he wanted.

He slipped a tongue into your mouth immediately and, despite yourself, you let out a low moan. He was more tentative than you'd ever imagined he could be, which meant one of two things; either your mind was making him act completely out of the ordinary, or this was real. You decided to go with the second option and closed your eyes, the sensation of his tongue in your mouth the only thing you could feel. That must have convinced him you really were going to stick around, because he gave up the caution, plunging his tongue deep into your mouth, exploring every part of it. You felt yourself flush all over; this wasn't like foreplay. This was practically mouth sex. You felt him run a hand through your (h/c) hair and flushed harder, your body instinctively stiffening and moving even closer to his. Eventually he pulled away and you reopened your eyes, your (e/c) gaze directly meeting his red eyes. He chuckled, "Kesesese~ It vas about time you said somezing _Zűße. _It was_ so_ un-awesome vaiting for you."

Your jaw dropped. "W-wait, _you knew_?"

The second you said it you realised what had been going on. That he'd got drunk to test what you said, with the excuse of the alcohol later. That he'd been bringing girls back to the apartment to try to make you jealous. That he'd known how you felt about him all along. And that he'd done nothing. He almost didn't deserve what you wanted to give to him.

"Of course I knew [Name]~", he purred, becoming more and more pleased with himself with ever passing moment. "And I don't blame you, after all I am zhe awesome Pr…"

You interrupted him. "You knew the whole time and you didn't do a single thing?"

He stopped talking for a moment and looked away from you, avoiding your gaze. "Vell, you see [Name]…" he started.

The alcohol must have made you bold, because the next thing you knew you were lying on top of a squirming Gilbert, a deep red blush covering his face and your tongue currently exploring the crevasses of his mouth. You smirked, as much as somebody could smirk in the middle of a makeout session, and decided to make the most of the position. Your elbows rubbed against the rough fabric of the couch as one of your hands travelled downwards, rubbing the growing bulge in his pants, your tongue continuing its mission. Gil wiggled slightly, but made no attempt to shake you off, something that surprised you. You had no idea that the narcissistic albino liked to bottom. Not that you were complaining.

Soon you had to pull away from his mouth for air, but your hand stayed put, stroking slightly more roughly each time. Somewhere inside your own boxers you could feel a similar stirring, begging for attention. Hissing slightly, you pulled yourself off the couch, your hands dropping to your sides. Gilbert did not approve. "What zhe hell are you doing?" he muttered, voice only slightly effected by your actions. Your blush returned.

"I-I was going to take you to the bed…"

He snorted. "Ve don't need zat. The couch is fine."

You stared at him for a second, "Um, Gil…"

"Ja?"

"Visitors sit on our couch."

"So?"

"Don't you think it might be a bit… awkward if they sit on the same sofa you've cum all over…"

"No."

Well, there went your last hope in Gil's social skills. Deciding to just go along with everything, you pulled him so that he was resting his feet on the ground and facing you, before getting onto your knees. His grin widened, knowing exactly what you were going to do, and he pulled off his t-shirt, revealing his perfect abs. You caught yourself staring, before embarrassedly turning back to the task at hand. Pulling down his zipper, which seemed to be trying to jam whenever you so much as touched it, and his pants, you noticed something that made you giggle, despite how aroused you were at the time. Another thing to blame on the booze.

"Baby chick boxers!?"

Gil looked down at you, scowling. "Vat? I like zem."

You tried to stifle the rest of your laughter. "I wasn't saying anything Gil…"

"Zen would you please hurry up. I'm getting cold here."

You sighed, biting your lip slightly. This was it, this was the moment. You were finally going to do this. You tentatively hooked your fingers around the top of his boxers, before eventually deciding to fuck it all and just pulling them off in one swift movement. You hooked an arm around his hips before edging ever so slightly closer and running a tongue along the velvet soft skin. He took in a sharp breath and you felt the knot in your stomach become tighter, almost to the point of pain. If you didn't finish this quickly you were seriously going to cum in your pants, in a bad way. Was there even a good way? Deciding this wasn't the time, you pushed your thoughts away and turned your attention back to Gilbert, taking just the tip of him into your mouth. He went wild, digging his fingers into your hair and starting to beg.

"Ja~ Ja [Name], like zhat~" You pulled away slightly, only to move back again, feeling the back of your throat get ticked this time. He moaned more, tensing every muscle in his body, his hips thrusting instinctively. By this point, a wet patch was forming on the front of your jeans. Resisting the urge to touch yourself, you instead sucked harder. Gilbert pulled you forward one last time, more violently this time, and you tasted the familiar salty tang, not unpleasant but still not that nice. Letting him go and leaning back into your haunches, you swallowed, before glancing back at Gil. You only had to take one look at his demanding red gaze to know what he wanted.

"Gil, I'm drunk; it's not the best time."

"Z-zat doesn't matter," he murmured, still not fully recovered. "You can still do it, nein?"

You let out a groan, "You're not going to let me get away without doing this, are you?"

"No."

You gave in, pulling your t-shirt over your head and starting to pull down your fly, Gilbert watching the entire time, grin returning, taking in your entire body. You couldn't help but shudder, blush returning. You were just about to pull your pants down, when you remembered something. "Uh, Gil, lube? Condom?"

"Right here." He bent forward, reaching for his jean and rifling through the pockets, before producing a familiar foil packet and a small bottle. He lent back over the couch, proving to you that he really could reload quickly, placing the edge of the packet between his front teeth and looking directly into your eyes, like he was daring you to make the first move. You let your pants drop, stepped out of them and, hooking one arm under Gilbert's legs and the other around his back, lifted him up. He looked at you utterly confused, so you felt obliged to explain. "Gilbert, I am _not_ doing you on the couch."

"Vhy not?"

"Because I said so, that's why."

He shut up and you shuffled a few feet to the door leading to your bedroom, knocking it open with an elbow, ignoring the mild pain, and entered, almost throwing him onto your bed. Gilbert immediately started sprawling over the bed, looking up at you with a glint in his eyes. You bent down and straddled him, the mattress soft against your skin, pulling the bottle out of one of his hands and the condom from between his teeth. "T-turn over", you grunted through clenched teeth. He did so and, turning the cap on the lube bottle, you poured a little onto one of your fingers. Gilbert looked back, a hint of uncertainty entering his eyes for the first time. You met his eyes and it disappeared. He turned back and spread his legs slightly further apart, jamming his eyes shut. You sighed wistfully, tracing your finger around his entrance, feeling his body tense. Eventually, you cautiously slipped it in, wondering how he'd react.

He let out another deep moan that made your skin crawl, in a good way. You slowly added another finger, then another, until the King of Awesome was practically begging for you to fuck him. You pulled your fingers out, pulled off your (f/c) boxers and attempted to tear the foil packet open. It refused. You tried pulling harder, then harder again and, eventually, the foil gave way, sending its contents flying across the room. You flushed with embarrassment. "Uh… Gil…"

"Vhat now?"

Then you remembered something. Reaching down to underneath your bed you pulled out a cardboard box and, rummaging for a minute, found what you were looking for. Triumphant, you pulled the smaller box out, opening it and taking out another foil packet. This one was much easier to open and, having pulled it out, you put it on, feeling the latex rub against your soft, soft skin. Gilbert's legs were still the same distance apart and, draping yourself over him, you readied your position.

"You ready?"

He nodded and you leaned forward into him. And two became one. Gilbert let out a stream of German curse words, but you could tell from his tone it wasn't from pain. For a moment, you just stayed put, just enjoying the tight, warm sensation. You let your weight rest on Gil, taking in the delicious sounds he was making, and it wasn't until after a few minutes that this was interrupted. "_K-klienes_… move."

You took your weight off him but still remained still, flinching slightly. He groaned and, breathing heavy, said something you never thought you'd hear coming from his lips. "[N-name], _please~_"

There was something in his voice that made you want to; something that made you want to take advantage of the fact that, finally, he was yours, or you were his more likely, and give him something he'd never forget. You pulled out almost completely, before pushing right back in. From the reaction, you knew you'd hit his sweet spot. You smirked, wanting just to push him over the edge, and repeated, slowly getting faster and faster as Gilbert's body squirmed beneath you.

"Gott ja [Name]", he murmured, voice dripping with honey, "Ja, Ja, Ja~"

A voice from below shattered the intimacy. "WILL THE TWO OF YOU JUST SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP?!"

"S-sorry", you shouted back, still maintaining your pace, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter, each movement becoming more excruciatingly gratifying. You were nearing your end, and so was Gil, from the looks of things. You pulled back one last time, feeling the shockwaves of pleasure as you finally stopped moving, your sight turning white for just a second. Panting, you waited for a second, before completely pulling out, provoking a series of displeased sounding grunts from Gil, flopping onto your side and lying on the bed. It was then that you realised the bed was soaking.

"Jesus Gil…"

The albino flopped down onto the bed beside you, breathing just as heavily, pulling you towards him in a sloppy embrace. "Vhat?"

You sighed. "I think we should sleep in your bed tonight."


End file.
